


Are you straight?

by illdobetter



Category: Dreamwastaken, GeorgeNotFound - Fandom, dreamwasfound - Fandom, mcyt
Genre: Angst, Crying, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, video call
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26431216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illdobetter/pseuds/illdobetter
Summary: Dream has a crush on George.Sadly, George has a girlfriend and is straight.Dream lets him know too much.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound
Comments: 12
Kudos: 144





	Are you straight?

Clay grimaces as his phone goes off once more, for what feels like the hundredth time today. He groans, rolling over and grabbing his phone as it insistently rings and vibrates. A call. It takes a few moments for Clay to read the name. George. He sighs, answering it. He hadn't realized it was on video call, though. He'd accidentally left it on after he called Sapnap. No, Nick. That's what he wants Clay to call him. He was all tear stains and ruffled hair, his blond locks tussled and knotted. Half his face was covered by the blankets of his bed. 

"Dream! You're late to our reco—" The brunettes eyes widen. It's the first time he's seen Dream's face. It's the first time he'd openly shown the fact that he was genuinely crying, too. His eyes were red rimmed, long, glossy eyelashes holding the remains of his tears. Pink lips are chapped, peeling, his skin pale, cheekbones jutting out. Definitely too thin for a twenty-something year old man. 

"Dream?" 

"Yeah?" he asks, squinting at the bright light of his phone. His rooms entirely dark, even if it was only about noon. 

"Are you okay?" 

Clay seems to realize his predicament, eyes widening momentarily. "Shit." he breathes, voice brassy due to his clogged up nose. It only takes him a few seconds to shut off video, "What did you need?" 

"It's not important." George had immediately responded, concern growing in his voice, winding around each word. 

"No, seriously," Clay says, grabbing a tissue and muting himself momentarily to blow his nose. Gross. He un-mutes himself, "Tell me." 

"I was gonna say we were meant to record fifteen minutes ago," George trails off, hesitant. "It's not important anymore. Are you okay?" he asks again, and his tone is killing Clay.

His throats tight, oh so tight, and he swallows hard, "I'm fine." he breathes, though it's clear it's a lie. He's snuggling up into his pillow again, trying his best to hide from the unfair world. 

"You're not fine. You looked like you were crying, Dream." Dream's brows furrow and he raises his head for a few seconds. 

"So? I watched a... a sad movie," he lies, casting his gaze to the side. 

"Turn on your video again." George requests, voice soft. Clay doesn't realize he's done it until he has. 

"What?" 

Clay's surprised to find George's eyes are glossy, holding too much emotion for his liking. "You're not okay. Why are you so thin? You're like a ghost.." 

Clay rubs insistently at the tear stains with his hoodie sleeve, the deep green covered with dark splotches. Tears. "I'm fine, George," his voice is tight, fragile. "I don't want to talk about it."

"But sometimes you have to, Dream." 

"So? I can do it.. do it later," he's shifting again, pulling his covers over his shoulders, even if it's more than hot in his room. Tears well up in Clay's eyes, and he's insistently blinking them away, breathing catching in his throat. "Do you need anything else?" His voice cracks, wavering, a tremble in his throat. "I'm.." he clears his throat, "I was gonna take a nap.." he checks the time. Shit. Recording. 

"I need you to know that I'm here for you Dream," George says, careful with his words. "You can tell me anything." 

"Are you straight?" Clay blurts, wincing. "Sorry, random thought," he tries to laugh it off, his trembling hands breaking the illusion. It stings, watching George's face drop. 

"Yes, Dream." he grumbles, "I am straight. I have a girlfriend," 

"Okay." Clay's voice breaks at the end, and he's slamming his thumb on the hang up button.

Fuck, he thinks, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. Way to give it away, Clay. Tears pour down his cheeks once more, and his stomach is twisting painfully. Eat, it cries. Eat! He can't. He doesn't have the energy. His throat is dry, and he lets out a broken sob, hiding his face in his elbows. Even with nobody in the room, he wants to hide his pain. He has to be strong. "Why can't you be normal?" he groans, sitting up and hiding his face in his knees. "Why the fuck are you in love with your best friend? You know they're all you have, right, Clay?" he's talking to himself. How fucking pathetic. "God, just.. be straight. For fucks sake," he picked that up from George. The thoughts painful, like a searing rod plunged into his heart. "Why don't you give up? Give up on life? Why the fuck are you hopeful?" he's gripping at his hair, now, tugging on the roots, desperate to ground himself. Each sob tears through his body, tugging at his bones. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." he repeats, curling further into himself. "I'm so fucking stupid." he whispers, "I'm not actually in love with him." he tries to convince himself, eyes dropping to his phone, only to be met with the face of his horrified friend. 

"Fuck." the word slips from his lips all too easily. "No, I didn't-" he's grabbing it desperately, glassy eyes meeting George's. "I didn't mean any of that." he chokes out, hyperventilating. 

"The fuck, Dream?"

"Haha! It was a joke! Aren't I.. aren't I a good actor?" The tears won't stop, and his cheeks are raw as he rubs them away with his arm. "Wow, aren't I just.." He gives up, knowing George won't believe him. "Sorry," he whispers, this time hanging up for sure.


End file.
